The Adventures of the Young and Invisible
by bleary bey
Summary: Isabella Swan has lived her whole life doing things worth noticing while no one was watching. She considers life one huge collaboration of adventures, not caring if anyone knew of these adventures. While trying new things and meeting new people, she accidentally stumbles into her senior year and a situation completely foreign to her . . . Someone noticing her. All Human.
1. Commencement into the Unknown

I like sleeping. I like being awake and doing things. I am not, however, fond of either acts of falling asleep and waking up. I especially don't like these acts when I have to do them for school. However, I feel a little reprieve, because today is the last first day of my high school career.

Maybe I'm already suffering from senioritis, but it feels pretty amazing.

I bounce out of bed and to my closet, yanking out a pair of jeans and one of my prettier sweaters. One quick trip to the bathroom, one brushing of hair and one brushing of teeth later I'm downstairs and in the middle of the kitchen, scouring the cabinets for Pop-Tarts.

"Someone's excited," Charlie's voice startles me just as I pull out a package of sugary goodness from the box. I grin.

"Very."

My father, Major Swan of the Seattle Police Department, is the best kind of man. He raised me on his own after my mother left us when I was seven, he dutifully went to every single event that I told him he didn't have to attend, and he stood by my side in the drugstore to buy feminine products after the first time I got my period.

Now he smiles at me, his only daughter, his only child, his personal long living adventure.

"Seems like just yesterday you were still begging me to stay at school with you. You wouldn't let go of my hand and asked your teacher if you had 'grown up chairs.'" His smile grew sad, his eyes became misty, and my heart lurches. He pats my head. "I love you, Bells."

Charlie is a man of few words, and he rarely shows his emotions. This, in and of itself, was a breakthrough of sorts. I make my way over to him and hug him. I squeeze tightly. "I love you, too. And don't worry Dad. I'm not _all_ grown up yet."

Because he was my father and because he knew me and because we were sometimes the same person, he grins down at me. "You can't open your Pop-Tarts can you?"  
I hand them over laughing.

He leaves for work soon after, giving me ten minutes of solitude to really let it set in that I'm a senior. That in a few short months, I'll be going to college. Starting life. But right now, thinking about it, I can feel it already starting. I feel like I'm on the premise of an adventure. I feel on the edge of something great, something spectacular and life changing.

I just don't know what it is.

Yanking my backpack onto my shoulder, I stride out to my old red truck and prepare to start the journey that will be my senior year of high school.

But then I have to run back into the house and grab another bag of Pop-Tarts.

Because my best friend bet me twenty bucks I would forget to bring them.

And I really don't want to start out my adventure down twenty bucks.

A/N:

Hi . . . so. I don't even know if anyone is going to be reading this. This is my personal adventure, my first attempt (that I've actually posted) at fanfic. I hope that whoever reads this enjoys it, and I'll try to update as frequently as possible in my chaotic schedule.

Review!

I think that's what you put at the end of these things . . .

Anyway, if you are reading this, keep on and let's go through this adventure together.

-BB


	2. Invisible, Stupid, Super

Garrett is already waiting for me by the time I make it to school. In fact, he is standing right outside of his car, arms across his chest, smirking in my direction. I smile at him.

Garrett would probably be wildly popular if he wanted to be. He's athletic, plays football and runs track. He is very handsome with long blondish hair that reached his chin in an almost perm. His gray eyes were very mischievous, which made him . . . _mysterious._ Or at least that's what Jessica Stanley told me freshman year before she knew I was his friend. But he shot those chances of popularity in the toilet when he started hanging out with me. And when he didn't try all that hard to go to parties with his guy friends. And when he shot down every girl who asked him out . . . Man. I cock my head like a confused puppy. He's the standard high school boy contradiction, isn't he?

In my eyes, he is still the gangly little ten year-old boy that told me vanilla ice cream was boring, so that meant _I_ was boring. He did not think that it, or people who ate it, were boring five seconds later when I shoved the entire cone into his stunned ten year old face. And from that sprouted an amazing and enduring friendship. Even if we threatened to kill each other every once in a while.

"Hey Bells!" He's all smiles as I hop out of the cab. "I'm a little hungry." He rubs his belly exaggeratedly. Add him saying 'ho, ho, ho' with his hair and that movement and he could try out for 'Hobo Mall Santa.' "Man! I sure do wish I had some-"

I'm one step ahead of him. "Pop Tarts?" I hold up the silver package in triumph before shoving it into his hand.

He shakes his head, laughing in disbelief. "Seriously? I bet you wouldn't bring them _six months ago!_ How did you remember?"

"The same way you remembered. You really _wanted _me to give youtwenty bucks," I explain, poking him. "And I really _didn't_ want to give you twenty bucks."

He rolls his eyes. "I hate you."

I grin. "You love me."

"Like the little sister I never wanted," he agrees, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me alongside him to the building. He looks at me and speaks in a too-cheery tone. "So Miss Swan! It's our senior year! How are you feeling? Excited? Nervous? _Victorious?_"

I roll my eyes. "You're an idiot."

"_You're _best friends with an idiot." He ruffles my hair and I slap his arm. "Are these strawberry?"

"Yes sir, just as you requested."

"Excellent job, my pupil." Garrett unwraps a Pop Tart with his arm still around me, him almost choking me because he is almost a foot taller than me. "Want a bite?" He wonders, shoving it into my face.  
"No."

"Yeah you do," he pushes it even farther into my face. "Eat it."

"That's what she said!" I snicker at my joke as he sticks his tongue out. I push him away. "I already ate!"

"Bells you know you want to."

"I will freaking slap that Pop Tart out of your hand and onto the ground!"

He just laughs while taking a huge bite. Crumbs fall out of his mouth as he speaks. "So I know we've compared schedules and all, but are you absolutely _positive_ you aren't in fifth period English?"

"Garrett, sweetie, honey, little lost child that was probably dropped too many times," I say, patting his arm. "I know you suck at it, but you're gonna have to go it alone. This is one of those times where life is testing you."

"Fine." He finally lets go of me. "At least we have four classes together, including gym. And then there's lunch. Which is really lucky considering how unlucky we were last year."

One class. We had _one_ class together. Sure it's a largely populated school so you can't really count on getting all the same classes with your friends, but it was excruciating. We work well together. By that, I mean I keep him from shouting rude comments that would probably get him suspended. So instead, last year, I just threatened his manhood every morning as a pep talk.

A squeal sounds from somewhere behind me. "Garrett!"

_Greaaaaat. _

Okay, just to clarify, our school is not super stereotypical high school movie flick. Not every single guy only wants to get laid, treats girls like crap, and makes crude jokes. Not ever single girl walks around in short skirts, is horribly and insufferably rude, or says 'like' every other word. Most everybody had some kind of depth about them. Now saying _that_, there are still a very select few who act the stupid way. It's just life's little joke that one of those few happens to stalk Garrett.

Angela Weber is a _very_ nice girl. She's really pretty, she wears cute clothes (I think), and she's . . . a smidge dingy. That mixed with the fact that she is really weird when it comes to Garrett makes me kind of want to hit myself in the head with a bat when she talks to him.

"Hey!" She exclaims, standing next to Garrett with wide eyes. "How was your summer? Mine was _great!_ Except I didn't get to see you, of course!" She playfully slaps Garrett's chest.

I love Garrett. I really, _really _do . . . but he sucks at communicating with this poor girl. And he proves this with the next words out of his mouth.

"Your shoes are purple!" He says, pointing to the sandals in question. "Purple's a really . . . _cool_ color."

Angela giggles a little maniacally. "Thank you! I loved them the second I saw them!" She winks a gold eyelid at her. "Maybe it was like I knew _you_ would like them!"

"Oh, gosh," I whisper, shaking my head. Louder, I say, "Hey Angela."

She looks at me as if she just noticed I was there. That's how it always is. The good thing is she doesn't think we're secretly in love, so she has yet to try and murder me. We actually have a pretty good relationship, as stalkers and their subject's best friends go.

"Hey Bella!" She gives me a hug, a very tight hug.

I pat her back. "Okay," I mutter. "Well, we gotta go. But we'll see you later, kay?"

"Kay!" She waves fast before prancing off.

I turn to Garrett and stare at him. "Are you _serious_?"

Garrett starts walking, not even looking at me. "Shut. Up."

I follow, snickering. "Purple's a really cool color, huh?"

"If I had lesser morals," he retorts, walking into our first class. "I would be simultaneously flipping you off, and dropping the F-bomb. But I am a good man, so I shall not."

We sit at two desks toward the back. It's not because we don't want to be caught talking. People tend not to notice me, especially not the things I do, so that's really no problem. It's like a power. I'm pretty sure teachers just act oblivious to the fact that I misbehave in their class because I have the highest grades in the senior class. And because I will help other students when they ask. And because I'm _really_ good at hiding the fact that I'm misbehaving.

"And if I ever had a reason to ruin your life," I respond, pulling my lip up to give him a 'duh' look. "I would tell Angela that you were secretly in love with her."

Garrett nods, his eyes widening. "Wow. Just, wow, Bella. You really know how to hit below the belt, don't you?"

I smirk. "Learned from the best."

"Well done, grasshopper."

"Thanks, sensei."

The bell rings.

I like to write. It's a bit of an escape for me. That, and the fact that it looks _amazing_ on a college resume, is the reason I joined the Forks High newspaper, The Spartan Times.

However as I sit in fifth period, my journalism class, I am thoroughly regretting my choice in extra curricular.

"Okay!" Jessica Stanley, queen of gossip and sadly closest thing I have to a girl friend, yells. "So she moved here because her parents died? Because I heard she moved her because of her cocaine dependency."

I scoff. Jess likes a juicy scoop, even if it is false.

"NO!" Austin bangs his hand on his desk. "Her parents died and now she's living with Jasper because his parents are her godparents! He _told _me!"

This happens frequently in this class, arguing over rumors and gossip. This is probably because our most popular column is our 'Spartan Speak' section, which is Jessica's wittily named gossip column. People send in tips all the time about juicy crap that everyone eats up. She usually doesn't verify the information, but it's special today.

The topic at hand is new girl Rosalie Hale. It's all anyone's talked about today. A girl I've never seen before in my life stopped me in the hall and asked me about her. So, that happened. Now, why would anyone take special interest in someone going to a public in Seattle, where there are already a plethora of students? Because this girl is the cousin of a mister Jasper Whitlock, one of the most famous guys in school. He's handsome, athletic, and . . . well, that's really all you need for this school, especially Jess. She practically worships all things good and popular. She's tried out for cheerleader every single year, and she finally made it this year. She's movin' on up in life, I suppose.

Jessica looks to me, her brown curls bouncing. "Izzy!" I have to physically restrain myself from cringing at that awful nickname. "What sounds more dramatic? Parents died leaving a traumatized yet sensitive heart to join our ranks at Forks High, or drug abusing crack whore sneaks past administrators watch?"

Have I mentioned that this has been going on for well over half an hour?

I sigh. "Well, while the whole crack whore thing would be scandalous, I think our readers would be more sympathetic with the first one." _That, and it's the true one. _

"Fine! Fine!" She sits down and starts typing furiously.

I can't even pretend to concentrate the rest of the period. When the bell rings, I practically sprint to the cafeteria. Which is really saying something considering I have pondered whether or not the food in there is actually edible.

I set my things down at my and Garrett's usual table. It's in the back of the middle, so we can see . . . well, everyone.

The cafeteria is where Forks High splits into the normal social hierarchy of high school. Cliques are divided, and Garret and I stand together as the odd couple out, since it's the well-liked golden boy who hangs out with the invisible superhero who does stuff. The second one is referring to myself, obviously.

I walk to the line lazily. I end up standing right in the middle of popular girl central. Alice Cullen, junior and sister to the King of Forks Edward Cullen, is chattering away, as is the Alice way.

I grin in self-satisfaction at my rhyming skills.

She's like a little pixie with her petite stature and severe yet stylish haircut. Slap a pair of wings on her back and I'd call her Tinkerbelle's fraternal twin sister. Alice is one of those people who _loves _fashion, trends, and all that good stuff. I mean she _really_ loves it. I cannot find a similar passion when it comes to clothing unless it's a T-shirt with a funny phrase. Like, _I mustache you a question, how great is this shirt?_ Then it'd have a little mustache on it . . . it's just so witty and cute!

She stands with Tanya Denali, Queen of Forks to Edward's King. She's beautiful, tall with long strawberry blonde hair and tanned skin. She's wearing a chevron shirt with tights and knee high riding boots. Tanya's a senior, so we've had a couple classes together. From what I've seen and heard, including the things Jess has printed in her column, she's a pretty nice girl. Aside from the fact that the few times we've interacted she called me 'Isabelle.'

Next to her is senior _cheer captain_ Lauren Mallory, the viper mean girl who would make Regina George crawl under a rock. She's vicious and rude and cruel and . . . just ugh. I don't really believe in cheerleader stereotypes, especially after watching the original _Bring it on_, but she makes me want to choke myself with a pom-pom. She was one of the few people I had already known from middle school, unfortunately for me.

They didn't seem to notice that I am standing less than a foot from them as they speak loudly and with fervor.

"You'll _love _it here!" Alice chirps.

Tanya nods, smiling brightly. "You really will. Everyone is super nice, and _all _the guys are already totally into you. You, Rosalie Hale, are already at the top of all of their 'hottie' lists."

_Rosalie Hale?_ My brow furrows. I tiptoe slightly, considering I'm a little on the short side. That's when I see the one and only, Rosalie Hale.

Rosalie had long golden hair that matched Jasper's, so they were probably also related. Her figure was . . . perfect, it seemed. It could make every single girl envious and every guy drool. Her eyes were wide and violet. Yes, _violet_. She's so beautiful, and I immediately feel sorry for her. Because now, Lauren will be jealous of her, and that's a scary thought. A green monster from the queen of monsters herself . . . yikes.

"I don't know," Rosalie says quietly. _Crap_. Even her _voice_ is beautiful. Kind of like a siren . . . maybe she's a mermaid! _Okay Swan_, _you've lost it._ She's going to have to beat boys off with a friggin bat.

Someone squeaks next to me.

I look over to see a freshman. I know this because she's got the panic struck look on her face that all the fish seem to be sporting. She is wearing an outfit similar to Tanya's, but hers also has a scarf, and she keeps pulling at it. Her face was bright red and her breathing sounded . . . unhealthy.

"Are you . . . _okay?" _I ask politely.

Her wide eyes meet mine before she nods her head fast. Then her eyes move sharply to her left and back to me._ Over there_, she's telling me.

I follow her gaze and almost laugh. Standing there, looking at his phone, is the incredible and all-powerful senior class president Edward Cullen.

Edward Cullen, as I said earlier, is the King of Forks High. I don't really know him personally, aside from what Garrett has told me. Thanks to football, they are now pretty good friends. I was relieved, because Garrett had no guy friends. Unless you count my father and their heated discussions about baseball, which I do not. Anyway, Garrett really likes Edward as a person (which from how Garrett sees people is a very high compliment), so completely disregarding his looks he is already awesome in my eyes.

The fact that he is gorgeous is only a bonus.

He is tall, around 6'2'' with a lanky yet lean physique. It was much like the ones that you see on guys who work out but don't try too hard and still look amazing. His face was all angles and high cheekbones with a sprinkle of full lips and dark lashes. Beneath those dark lashes were a pair of green eyes that are enough to make every single girl melt. I think they're ridiculously beautiful, like emeralds, but I have yet to be _dazzled _by those eyes. Garrett has said that along with invisibility I have been granted immunity to Edward's magic eyes. Above the eyes is The Hair. The Hair that makes girls go weak in their knees before they see his face. The uniqueness of his bronze tresses was only icing on the cake coupled with the messiness and disarray that his locks were permanently in. In short, he looked like a male model.

He was still looking at his phone, thank goodness, when I turn back to the nervous girl. I smile at her before shrugging and rolling my eyes. _It's just Edward. No biggie._ As if I've every said much to him. We spoke once last year when Principle Greene brought us into his office to discuss crap about us being the top two in the class and being leaders and _blah._ I spaced out and nodded along, and Edward asked me at one point if I liked confetti. Not a very productive encounter, if you ask me.

"You can move now," a random voice sneers from behind me.

I don't look back to see if I know the owner of the voice, I just move forward. So does the freshman, only she doesn't make the trip from point A to point B as gracefully as I do. She trips over her own boot as she walks, accidently shoving past me and straight into . . . _Lauren Mallory_. Oh no.

Lauren turns, her eyes ablaze with fury. "_Who_ didthat?"

She hadn't even been moved, and yet here she was, getting pissed. She glares at the girl with cold eyes, as if she knows but wants her to admit it. The poor freshman looks like she's about to wet herself.

I sigh. I should give this girl a chance. It's not like I have an amazing social status to uphold. I step forward with an apologetic smile. "I'm _so_ sorry!" I make a show of patting the girl who is now staring at me like I'm a fallen angel. She mouths her thanks. I nod, waving her away. "I ran into her and pushed her into you. Tripped over my shoe!" The girl runs to the back of the line, shooting me grateful glances.

Lauren stares at me for a moment before stepping close to my face. "Who, _in the hell_, do you think you are?"

I lick my lips. "Well, I think that is a _very_ good question. In fact, it is a question we all face at one point in our live. The classic 'Who am I?' conundrum." I almost laugh at her stumped face. But I don't, out of fear of my arm so close to her long red nails.

"You know what?" She snarls, her lip curling upwards unflatteringly. "I don't have time for overdeveloped freshmen like yourself," she hisses, pointing to my, yes, well developed chest.

I raise an eyebrow. I know most people don't know me, and I get it. But you should at least know who is in you class. "Well that's good to know," I state, raising my chin. "Considering I'm a _senior._"

Lauren cackles. "You are _so_ not a senior. I would know. I'm a senior, genius." Now she is just smirking, her overly pink lips quirked.

"Actually," a male voice intercedes. "She is. She's actually the _top _senior." I spin, stunned, to see Edward Cullen, _Edward Cullen_, smirking at _me. "_Not that I didn't try to stop that."

"But Eddie," Tanya moves to stand between Edward and me. "You're top senior."

He shakes his head, grinning a crooked grin at me. His eyes are sparkling as he glances at the girl with slight amusement. "Trust me. Principle Greene gave me a long speech last year about it. I think I know." And then he winks. And I can no longer say I have not been dazzled.

Stupid beautiful boy with his stupid eyes that dazzle me.

Lauren looks like she is trying to think of ten different ways to kill me. "Seriously, who _are_ you?"

Tanya waves a hand flippantly. "Her name's Isabelle."

I try to make the correction, I really do, but it seems my invisibility has come back full force as Lauren and Tanya now speak quietly to Edward. Alice is leaning in close, trying to be involved.

Random voice from earlier decides to make a reappearance. "Okay, you know what? If you guys don't move, I'll get in front of you!"

Before the owner of that voice could make good on his promise, I leave a squabbling group of popular kids unnoticed to get my food.

I sit down at the table, still stunned. Garrett is analyzing me. "You okay Bells?"

I nod. "I just escaped death, I do believe."

I retell the events that transpired only a few short minutes ago, and he is laughing so hard two tables are looking at us. I mouth _he's nuts,_ to one girl in particular who's giving him the googly eyes.

"You're like a superhero," he says, still laughing. "I'm just glad that Lauren didn't claw your eyes out right there."

I frown. "Maybe I shouldn't help poor defenseless freshmen anymore."

He grins. "Bells, that's your nature. You help everybody, even if it means risking your life."

"Well, I've now awakened a beast, it seems," I mutter, catching Lauren glaring at me form her seat. I smile brightly and wave. "She's so going to kill me."

"I'll get face cake for the funeral."

Ever the supportive best friend. I laugh. "Thanks."

"And balloons," he adds.

"And a petting zoo," I throw in.

"Oh!" He exclaims, his eyes lighting up. "We should have a live performance . . . when is the circus in town?"

We spent the rest of lunch discussing more funeral plans. We decided on a snow cone machine for refreshments and a group of interpretive dancers to act out my life. Ending with Lauren stabbing me with a pencil.

I follow Garrett and his now pony-tailed hair, thanks to me during a lull of planning at lunch, to our chemistry class.

Mr. Humphrey greets us at the door.

"Find your name on a lab table," he grumbles. "I've already assigned you lab partners. There will be no switching, and no exceptions."

Garrett smiles like a good student before swearing the second we enter the classroom. "How good are the chances of us being partners?" He wonders.

I send a grimace toward Mr. Humphrey's hunched back. "Not great."

As it would turn out, we ended up in the same row. My table was right behind his, which he would share with, guess who, Lauren Mallory.

Garrett would be sitting next to her, while working with chemicals.

This was going to end _very_ badly.

I look at my desk, _Isabella _scribbled on a post-it marking it mine. I pick it up and run to slap it on Garrett's back. He slaps my hand. I hit him over the head and run. I am safely in my desk, Garrett seething, when I notice the name next to me.

_Edward Cullen._

Well. Crap.

And here I was, bragging about not being dazzled.

A/N:

Okie dokie. So now we have some other people showin' up . . . and stuff.

I really hope you enjoyed it!

If not, that's okay too. Either way, review!

Ya see what I did there? It rhymed.

Anyway hope anyone reading is having an absolutely lovely holiday. HAPPY NEW YEARS! 2014 here we come!

I own no characters, which I think is pretty obvious. I'm not _near _good enough to be Stephanie Meyer.

Tell me what you think!

- bb

P.S. It's late here, and I'm really fuzzy brained, so if anything doesn't make sense, please tell me . . . and I'm sorry if it is a little confusing!


	3. Cheesy Racket Ball Parties

The first week of school passes rather quickly, much to my extreme excitement. Chemistry is a little awkward, but not too bad. Edward and I don't speak much, if at all, but I don't think anyone in our position would. Especially when I've spent the last week trying _very _hard to keep Garrett out of prison for first-degree murder.

It's not even that Lauren's being a total witch to him, it's that she's flirting non-stop.

The hair twirling, the eyelash batting, the fake giggles and the 'sexy' arm touching is all very nauseating to watch. Garrett took it with a smile at first, but toward the end of the week he started to lose his temper. So I've been his parole officer.

Now it's Friday and we're walking to gym, having just left Lauren fiddling with the buttons on her top. Yes, it had gotten to that point.

"She's certifiably nuts." Garrett is walking too fast with his long legs, so I'm jogging to keep up. "I don't know what to do! I can't deal with this for a whole semester and Mr. Dumbphrey refuses to let us switch." We'd only had Mr. Humphrey as our teacher for a week and it took us one class period to start calling him that on a regular basis. It fits well.

I shrug. "You're screwed."

Garrett groans. "And you have Edward, which is totally unfair."

"Yes," I agree sarcastically. "Because Edward and I are _such_ great friends. Today, during class, we wove each other friendship bracelets. His says 'BFFs' and mine says 'Forever.'" I roll my eyes. "Get real Garrett. We don't even talk."

"It's better than someone practically stripping in the middle of a lab!" He yanks at his hair.

"I'll take her down if she ever tries to molest you," I assure him, putting my fist up in a fake fight stance. While he's glaring I start to walk away to go to the girls' locker room.

His yell follows me past the door. "That's really comforting!"

Something about me, I am one of the clumsiest people on the planet, if not _the _clumsiest. It's part of the reason I took pity on the freshman from earlier in the week. I'd been there before, and I knew how embarrassing it was. And Lauren would have skinned her alive, because she would have let her. Anyway, because of this clumsiness, I am athletically challenged.

After I change in the uncomfortable little room with the other girls in this class, I walk out to see racket ball nets set up along the gym floor. I stifle the groan that's creeping up my throat. Me with a racket . . . how frightening.

"Okay!" Coach Clapp yells from his chair that he rarely leaves. "I'm going to partner you up!"

He starts calling out names, making me feel like crap. Whoever got stuck with me is going to be in for a wonderful day of losing racket ball games. Maybe they would just let me stand to the side so I wouldn't hurt anyone . . .

"Swan and McCarty! Over there," Coach yells, pointing across the court.

_McCarty? Really?_

Emmett McCarty is the most athletic guy in the school. I glance over at the giant boy with a bit unease. He's standing at the net with the two guys we'd be playing, Tyler Crowley and Mike Newton. We'd never really talked, take away a small thing in Spanish the year before when he almost got caught sleeping so I threw my pencil across the room to distract Ms. Garth for a second before I kicked him awake. He startled awake mumbling 'hola.' It wasn't what I would call a life-changing encounter.

Garrett pushes me toward him. "Don't hit yourself too hard."

"Your faith in me is astounding," I mutter, walking to my designated net.

Emmett is like a bear, huge, tall, and full of muscle with dark curly hair. But he's a really nice guy, always helping people out when they need it, even if he isn't the brightest. He was talking to Tyler and Mike, gesturing wildly as was his forte, when he sees me. He grins, his dimple's popping onto his cheeks.

"Swan!" He says, his voice booming with an internal microphone. I'm surprised he knows my name for a second, then realize Coach Clapp had just said it. _I'm a GENIUS!_

I smile shyly at him. "Hey Emmett."

He flails his racket like a sword. "Ready to play?"

I close my eyes. "Um, have you ever seen me play sports?" I ask. "Because I'm a little less than exemplary."

Emmett laughs, his whole body shaking. "I know Isabella!" _He knows my name?_ "I think everyone knows that!" He walks up to me and the size difference as we stand side by side is astonishing. I have to crane my neck to look at him. "I don't mind! Hey, maybe we can get you to actually hit the birdie."

"I love the optimism," I say. "And call me Bella."

He grins. "Garrett always calls you that, but I thought that might just be for your friends."

_Aw, Garrett talks about me. He's _so_ going to get made fun of later. _I smile at the big guy who was already managing to make me like him. "Who said you're not my friend?" I tease.

His smile gets wider, if that's possible. "I made a friend!" He wraps his arms me and lifts me into the air. I gasp in surprise. "I think that's the easiest I made a friend since I was in kindergarten."

"What a coincidence," I wheeze, little air flowing through my lungs. "I don't think I've made a friend period since I was in kindergarten."

Emmett's guffaws echo so loudly Coach Clapp glances our way. He notes my feet that are suspended in the air and the color that my face is turning, which by now is probably a dark purple.

"McCarty! Put her down and start the game!"

"Yes Coach!" He sets me on my feet and picks up the racket I don't remember dropping. "Let's play, _friend_!" He winks, making me laugh.

Tyler and Mike are both athletic jock like boys, so they are pretty good at racket-ball. Emmett doesn't let me stand in a corner like I so wish he would, but instead makes me play with him and laughingly cheers me on. It is both encouraging me and pissing me off.

"Come on Baby Bell!" He says at one point. "Swing that racket, swing it!" He demonstrates, as if that would help me.

I turn to him, sweaty and pushing hair out of my face. "Baby Bell?"

He shrugs his huge shoulders. "I like the cheese _and_ your name is Bella, so . . ." He frowns, and it looks odd on his face. "You don't like it?"

I shake my head. "Surprised me is all."

"Ha!" Tyler is waving his arms triumphantly, pointing at the ground next to me. I had apparently missed them hitting the birdie past me and scoring a point. I scowl.

Emmett nudges me playfully. "Get your head in the game Baby Bell!"

We end up losing three games in a row, then winning one because Emmett actually plays. Coach Clapp blows the whistle in the middle of our fifth game saying it was the last one. Tyler is gloating loudly, irritating me. We are tied, and whoever gets the next point wins. Mike taps it over the net, sending it straight for me. That's how they'd been winning, by hitting it to my side while I flailed unhelpfully.

"You couldn't hit the birdie if it were the size of an actual bird!" Tyler taunts.

"You do realize some birds are really small," I counter. "Humming birds are tiny."

"Well . . . uh . . ." He trails off. "You couldn't hit the birdie if it was the size of a basketball!"

His quick wit astonishes me.

This time though, with Tyler's trash talking in the background, I glared at the little birdie flying over the net. With a lot of anger and the loud encouragement from Emmett beside me, I swung my racket, causing the birdie to fly back over the net and past a shocked Tyler, onto the ground. For a point. For the _winning _point.

"YES!" Emmett bellows, causing the other players in the gym to look our way. However, I can't even care. I just won a frigging athletic game.

"I hit it!" I screech, staring at the racket in shock. "I got a point!"

"You got a point!" Emmett swings me around again. "Go Baby Bell!"

"Bella? Emmett?" Garrett's voice asks. I see him briefly as Emmett twirls me around. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Well," Emmett starts, putting me down. I'm dizzy and stumble a bit. He slaps me hard on the back, which I'm sure for him is just a pat, but it only makes me stumble further. "Our balanced impaired friend here just won us a racket ball game!"

Garrett gives me a big smile. "Great job Bella!" He says it slowly, as if I'm a small child. "Do you think we can move you up to the big kid class?"

I nod, smiling, bouncing the racket in my hand. "Okay."

Then I whack him with it.

"Ouch!" He yelps, grasping his gut where I just whacked him. I ignore him and skip to the locker room, his grumblings and Emmett's laughter following me the whole way.

In the locker room some of my fellow upperclassmen girls were talking loudly about some party at the Cullens' house tonight. _I wonder why my best friend didn't invite me?! _They're all giggling and discussing ideas, and then a random girl says,

"So do you think Lauren is finally going to hook up with Edward?" She says it with a smirk on her face.

I find myself, not for the first time, amazed at how all of these girls can talk about this so easily around so many people. Gossiping about two students they aren't' even close to. But it's interesting, because she's been trying to get with Garrett for a whole week . . .

"I thought she had a thing for Garrett Jeffery?" Random Girl #2 says.

_Me too._

Random Girl #3 snorts and rolls her eyes. "Yeah right. Edward has been her target for a _long _time. Although she might have to be careful. That Rosalie girl is probably already all over him. I mean he is _hot._"

"Really?" I murmur to myself. "I think it's pretty drafty, so he might be a bit chilly. He might want a sweater."

They don't hear me, of course. The girls keep up the chatter as I shake my head and exit.

I am almost to my truck when Garrett catches me. "Hey!"

I stare at him. "Are you trying to get kicked off the football team by being late to practice?" He's smiling so widely I get nervous. "What?"

"Guess what?"

"You know I suck at guessing games."

Garrett frowns. "That's true, you are really bad at those. Well anyway, tonight there's a party at the Cullen household."

"I'm aware."

"Great! You already know!" He pats my shoulder. "That's wonderful, because we're going!" He says it so quickly I have to think for a second, and in that second he is already making his getaway.

"Wait!" I grab his arm. "What are you talking about?"

"The whole team is expected to show up," he says, as if this is a reasonable explanation. "And you, by best friend law, are required to come with me to all events that I have to go to."

"No I am not!"

"It does when my best friend, that person being you," he points at me with accusation. "Is the whole reason I joined the football team in the first place."

"Oh _please!_" I say with a laugh. "You love football! And you're great! You were just being stubborn! I, being the great best friend that I am, decided to push you to your full potential!"

Garrett grins, _triumphantly_. "You are the greatest of greatest best friends who would do that," his tone has gone from demanding to smug. "Which is why I will win this and you will go to this stupid party with me like the amazing person you are. Oh!" He adds. "And Emmett said, and I quote, 'Tell Baby Bell her butt better be there or I'll be hella angry.'" Now Garrett is staring at me with his brow cocked. "How did you make him like you so fast?"

"I'm freakin' lovable," I say in explanation. Then, I grumble, "And I guess I'll go to the stupid party."

He sighs, his whole body relaxing. "Bella, I love you so much right now. I owe you _big_."

I glare at him. "Well, if Angela Weber uses tonight as an excuse to get some of your DNA to make a clone," I waggle a finger, meaning business. "Do not, come running to me."

"Yes ma'am." He salutes me before walking away, back toward the field.

"Wait!" I scream.

He turns.

I smirk. "I do have _one _tiny condition."

* * *

The sun was already falling low in the sky by the time Garrett calls to tell me he's coming to get me for the party. After telling my father, who was surprisingly at ease sending me to a teenage craze fest that might be filled with alcohol, I spend the rest of the time building up my game for getting through what would probably be an excruciating social events. For me, anyway.

Now, Garrett is weaving through the streets of huge mansions and well-kept lawns while the Seattle drizzle lightly pounds on the car. He hasn't said a word to me the whole car ride, but I couldn't care less. I was smug as all heck and nothing could change that at the moment. Except the thought of going to a party at the Cullens'. I frown.

I'm most definitely not a student who frequents parties. I am not one to frequent anything that requires extensive social interaction with people who could care less about me or, heaven forbid, anything that requires me to _dance. _

Klutziness mixed with no sense of rhythm equals . . .

A girl who looks like a giraffe on an ice rink.

I'm wearing something that I think is presentable for this kind of thing. Okay, so it wasn't extremely fashionable, but whatever. I glance down at my T-shirt and shorts. The T-shirt is a _Radiohead_ shirt I fell in love with for their album _In Rainbows._ It has a plethora of colors, and I'm just so glad it's warm enough for me to wear shorts that I picked my brightest ones. They're orange and spunky and funky and they don't make me look chunky.

I say this to Garrett, and he cracks a small smile.

My nerves only increase as the houses only seem to grow larger in both size, and as it would seem, cost. My father and I lived pretty comfortably, courtesy to a salary, me having my own job and a fairly well off grandfather who left me a butt-load of money when he found out my mom left us. Garrett seems at ease, as if he frequented establishments of class and wealth, rather than the truth being the dollar aisle in Target.

Then, for the crème de la crème, Garrett stops at a house that is huge, white, gorgeous, and filled to the brim with teenagers and cars. Have I mentioned it looks like it could fit three of my houses inside?

"What do Edward's parents _do_?" I inquire. "For a living, I mean."

Garrett smirks at my uncomfortable stature. "His father's a doctor and his mother is a home designer and interior decorator. A pretty well liked one, at that." He unbuckles his seat belt. "I'm also pretty sure he has a wealthy grandfather or something." He winks, his eyes twinkling. "Don't break anything."

I grimace. Then I grin.

Emmett is standing in the front yard, holding a water hose and pretending to wrestle it, as if it were a real snake. He recognizes Garrett's vehicle when his eyes scan the yard of admirers. He drops the hose and sprints to the car.

Garrett steps out and I scramble to join him. If he leaves me for even one second tonight, I might behead him. I'm an excellent axe wielder.

Before Emmett can say anything else, his mouth pops open as he stares at Garrett. I bite my lip.

It is then that Emmett reminds Garrett what my condition was, and what it would mean for the rest of the night.

"Dude," he says slowly. "Are those . . . _Braids?"_

I lose it and laugh so hard I'm crying.

Garrett simply runs his hands over his intricately braided hair with purple scrunchies (because I love to torture him). "Emmett," he says quietly as he turns to me with a heavy sigh. "Never grow your hair out with a friend like Bella."

A/N –

So it's a new year, new chapter . . . hahaha. I crack myself up. I hope you guys like the new addition!

Just want to let you guys know I'm going to be pretty busy the next couple of weeks, but I'll update as soon as I can!

I'm really sleepy, so if this doesn't make sense, tell me. I like input. And scrunchies. I really like scrunchies.

Please review! IF YOU DARE . . . Just kidding I'm not all that threatening. A bit scatter brained, but not threatening. I am not as good of an axe wielder, it would seem.

I hope you all are having a great week, and a great start to 2014!

- bleary bey


	4. Somewhere in Rainbows

I cannot believe that Garrett left me alone. He drags me to this stupid party, and then leaves me _alone._

He was off in the front yard somewhere, Emmett having dragged him off to explain to everyone why Garrett now resembled a very masculine and blonde Dorothy.

_Well_, I think, looking around at the grinding bodies of my classmates, _we definitely aren't in Kansas anymore._

What am I even supposed to do here? This was so ridiculously out of my element. I scan the room, recognizing a few faces, and only seeing a few of whom I actually speak to.

The house itself was actually extremely beautiful. I can see why Esme is an interior decorator if she uses half the skill for others that she did for her own home. The furniture all coordinated with different shades of tans and browns, all very warm and homey. I could see pictures hung up all over the place, although I can't make out the faces because of the dimmed lights. There's a large fireplace in the room, adding yet another cozy feeling to the home. Furniture was currently pushed to the sides of the room to make large dance floor/mingling area where many teenagers chattered loudly over the booming music or dry humped each other and called it dancing.

That particular detail made it feel a little less homey, but I doubt Esme planned on it being a defining feature of the home.

I awkwardly walk around the mess of people, accidently bumping into a girl who holds a red solo cup in her hand. She simply yelps and flips me off, telling me to F-off. I hold back a snarky remark that would most likely cause her to throw her drink at me, reminding myself that having an alcoholic smell on my clothes would send Charlie into a fit before I could say 'Designated Driver.'

The house is huge. I mean really, _really_ big. The living room itself was enough to hold a butt load of people. I have no idea where I'm going as I walk through the horde of teenagers filling a hallway. Hopefully to a secluded bathroom, or closet, or other place that I can hide for the remainder of the night.

I somehow stumble into the kitchen. It's relatively empty sans a couple making out in the corner. The table tops are lined with drinks, a few bags of chips scattered here and there. I try and find something that's not alcoholic on the cabinets, which I soon find to be impossible.

Is it rude to scavenger through a refrigerator when you barely know the owner? Well, it is a party. I guess this could be considered wild.

_Watch out, I'm a party animal._

I yank open the large door, peering into the expensive looking appliance. The Cullens seem to eat fairly healthy, different fruits lining the shelves along with a few health smoothies.

"Oh!" I chirp excitedly. "Water!" I pluck the bottle from the shelf, quite proud of myself.

I uncap the bottle and take a sip, watching the couple that had been making out giggle and leave with murmurs of finding an empty room. I frown. If it were me here at this party with my boyfriend, I would most definitely not want to go and have our intimate times in a stranger's room at a party.

However that scenario would actually require me to have a boyfriend, and to also frequent parties. So it's moot.

Boredom soon overtakes me, as it would anyone if you were sitting around in someone's unfamiliar kitchen for a long period of time with nothing to do other than judge unsuspecting couples, so I decide to go explore.

Eliminating the thought of returning to the room where everyone was currently jumping to the beat of Nicki Minaj, I continue to walk through the hallway from which I came. I pass what seem to be a den and a closed door to a bathroom. At least that's where I hope the noises of someone puking are coming from. Vomit can really ruin upholstery.

At the end of the hall I encounter a staircase. Having never been one to leave much to the unknown I clamber up the steps, hoping for a secluded area. At the top of the stairs the party still rages on, kids screaming and running past each other into the rooms. The entire hallway is like a freakin' zoo.

A boy is running around with a lamp in his hand, the lamp shade on his head, screaming, "All Hail the Spartans!" at the top of his lungs.

_At least he has school spirit._

"Bella!" Someone yells.

I crane my neck over the sea of too-tall people and see a head of blonde hair shoving through the crowd. Black hair, Emmett.

"Bella!" He yells again. I can barely hear him. It's almost like I'm in one of those clubs in the movies where they always have to yell and you think they're exaggerating, but now I know they're not.

"Emmett!" I scream. I smack him on the shoulder. "Why did you leave me you big goof?"

He rubs his shoulder. "I had to go explain the braids to every single guy on the team!" He pats my head, grinning. "I think you may have become their new favorite girl!"

"Oh my dreams have come true!" I roll my eyes. "Where's Garrett?"

He shrugs his huge shoulders. "Last time I saw him a girl was talking to him." He frowns. "Angela or something."

"Oh jeez," I mutter. "I freaking warned him. I did!"

Emmett laughs. I think. His mouth opens wide and his shoulders shake. It's either that or he's really happy about choking on something.

Because I like him, I sincerely hope it's the first option.

"Don't worry B," he says, mussing my hair. "I think I know where you can hide."

He grasps my hand and yanks me back toward the staircase. There's another flight that I failed to notice because it's darkened, as if _no one is supposed to go there._

I frown. "Emmett I don't want to intrude on these people's home, okay?"

"Bella just don't worry about it," he stops speaking so loudly as the music dims down and we turn the corner to another small group of stairs. "Edward is my best friend, he won't care."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he's my best friend!"

I snort. "Well he's not _my _best friend, so he might mind me being up here."

He stops at the top of the stairs. I see a dark hallway, and I can barely make out three doors. "Nah," Emmett says. "Garrett's talked enough about you that we all feel as if you're all of our little sister."

"Am I all you guys talk about?" I inquire, raising my eyebrow.

Emmett grins. "Nope. We talk about hot chicks too."

I nod. "That just proves that I really am all you talk about."

Emmett laughs, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Where have you been all my life Baby Bell?"

"Probably in my room. Avoiding these parties. And people in general." I lean forward. "I'm pretty antisocial."

"I think you're pretty cool," he's still smiling from ear to ear. "You can hang out here for however long you want. But at eleven I'm making a speech to the team, so I expect you to be there!" He glares at me playfully.

"Why?" I wonder.

"Because you're going to all the games, right?" Emmett sticks out his lip in a pout. He looks like a little boy, a really cute little boy, and I can't help but smile.

"Of course! I always go to all of your games."

His expression switches to one of confusion. "Really? I never saw you!"

I snicker. "Of course not! I'm not a cheerleader and I didn't throw myself at you!"

"Oh whatever!" He gently shoves me away. "You know you want a piece of the McCarty pie!"

"Well _I _already know you'd like a nice cracker to go with my Baby Bell!" I tease back, both of out straight faces melting into laughter.

"Ew!" A squeal sounds from behind us. "Emmett what the hell are you doing with her?"

Both turn to see a very tipsy Alice Cullen standing on the stairs, clad in a flashy gold dress that was too short and super tall heels that made Bella cringe. And in her arms was . . . A puppy?

_Toto!_

"Alice," Emmett scolds. "Don't be rude. Bella's my bestie."

I smirk. "I'm honored."

"Well, whatever," Alice slurs.

"Why are you holding a dog?" Emmett asks.

She sneers. "This mutt is Edward's new dog. It stinks and eats my shoes, and a few minutes ago it was chewing on Tanya's bag. I seriously just want it gone. I hate it, but _no! _So I'm putting it in Dad's study." She shoves past us, walking to one of the doors and opening it, literally _throwing _the dog in. "Maybe if it chews on Dad's books they'll send it to the pound like it deserves."

I gape at her. "It's just a puppy!"

She narrows her eyes. "It's a useless nuisance, that's what it is!" She smirks cruelly. "Just like you, huh you little duckling?"

Alice leaves, leaving both Emmett and I staring in shock, watching her drunk from stumble back down the steps in her death-traps for shoes.

"I'm so sorry Bells!" Emmett exclaims after he recovers. He looks pissed. I mean _beyond_ pissed. "She's never been so mean before! Maybe she's just drunk or something . . ."

I sigh. "I've literally never said two words to the girl. But she's friends with Lauren, who hates me." I pat him on the back, hoping to let him know it didn't get to me. "It's okay. Now she gave me a friend to hang out with," I point towards the door to her father's study.

Emmett's tense shoulders relax a little. "You like dogs?"

"Love 'em," I reply. And it's true. Dogs are freaking cute, and I've always wanted one, but Charlie and I just never really got around to it. But after seeing that fur ball . . . yeah, we were having the dog conversation again.

"Okay . . ." He started to back away. "Well I'm going to head back down to the party, like the rest of the social people." He finishes with a playful look in his eyes.

"Please make sure Angela doesn't kidnap Garrett. She has a bit of a . . . obsession with him."

"I'll do my best."

I walk down the hall to the room where the little dog resided and carefully pushed open the door, reaching around the wall to flick on a light. And sitting just inside the door was quite possible the most adorable little dog I'd ever seen. It seems to be a Border Collie, it's fur black and white. It looks up at me with big lovable brown eyes, its tongue out. It doesn't approach me, so I take a tentative step towards it, holding my hand out. The little puppy sniffs my hand before cautiously padding to my side, rubbing against my bare leg slightly, it's fur warm and soft.

I kneel next to it, smiling widely. "You're a sweet little thing," I murmur. "Aren't you?" I ruffle it's fur, the little thing coming even closer, enjoying the attention. "Yeah you're jus the cutest little dog I've ever seen. Yes you are!"

It's then that I glance up, suddenly remembering that I was in the study of Dr. Carlisle Cullen. The room is filled with books in shelves lining the walls. A large desk sits in the middle of the room. A computer sits on it, along with I think a brief case. _So this is where the doctor goes._

The dog pads after me as I walk further into the room, reaching a hand out to run my fingers over the books, smiling. I'm a reader, and seeing that Dr. Cullen appears to be one as well makes me feel an odd connection to the family it seemed I had nothing in common with. I walk over to the desk, looking at the picture frames. One was a picture of Alice and Edward, both smiling at what seemed to be a holiday party. Alice is wearing green and red, and seems much more friendly than she had only moments ago. Edward looked as handsome as ever, even though his smile looked a little more forced than I had seen it before.

I casually plop down into the leather chair behind the desk, looking to the other photo. This one is of who I automatically assume is Esme Cullen. She's utterly beautiful, as I see is a trend with this family. She has long almost Carmel colored hair, and green eyes that are identical to Edward's. Her smile is so gentle and caring it warms my heart just looking at it.

I feel the puppy lick my leg and I giggle, leaning down to pick it up. It can't be more than a couple months old, given it's small size. A quick inspection tells me the pup is a boy, and I smile. "What's your name little fella?" I wonder quietly. I rub it's ears, smiling when it leans farther into my embrace and licks my cheek. While gross, its affection reminds me of why I wanted a dog so bad.

"Hm?" I murmur. "What's your name little boy?"

"He actually doesn't have a name, yet," a quiet voice says. "I'm still pondering that."

My eyes flash up to see a smiling Edward Cullen. He's leaning against the door I didn't hear open; the perfect picture of casual good looks. He wears a simple T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and yet makes them look like more. His eyes are crinkled with his lop-sided smile, and his hand is in his wild jungle of hair.

And I suddenly remember that I'm in his father's study. Uninvited. And he hardly knows me.

_I am such a creeper_.

"I'm so sorry," I stutter out. "I don't really like parties so Emmett suggested I come up here, he said you wouldn't mind." I glance down at the dog still curled happily up in my arms. "And your sister put him in here so I figured I'd keep him company-"

"Calm down Isabella," Edward says, laughing. His laugh is beautiful.

I crinkle my nose. "Bella."

"Bella," he corrects himself, smiling even wider. "I'm not here to kick you out or anything. Alice told me that she put that little guy in here, and I didn't want him to get lonely, but I see he's found better company than me."

I blush. "You haven't named him yet?" I look down at the face of the dog, scratching its head. "He looks like he deserves a cool name, something unique." I think for a moment, and as I do the puppy nips at my shirt, tugging lightly. "You like Radiohead?" I ask it softly. "Maybe that should be your name."

"Radiohead," Edward says slowly. I had forgotten he was in the room for a moment, but now I was overly aware of the fact that he had heard my ramblings. His face is thoughtful, his green eyes bright. "I love it."

I'm surprised. "Really?"

"I like Radiohead, and it _is_ unique," he chuckles, almost shyly. Then he glances at my shirt, his little smile growing slightly. "You like Radiohead?"

Now it's my turn to be a little shy. "Yeah, they're cool. In Rainbows is my favorite album of theirs."

He nods. "Mine too."

We both fall silent for a moment. Even though we had spent the entire week sitting next to each other in Chemistry, this was the longest conversation we'd had. I notice he's a cool guy, albeit a bit shy, but we seemed to at least like one of the same bands, and liking the same music is like being connected by the soul.

So it's for this reason I ask, "What other bands do you like?"

Edward seems grateful that I spoke again, and runs a hand through his hair. "I like a lot of stuff. I'm a bit of a music junkie."

I smirk. "Me too. What was the last song you listened to?"

He snorts. "Something by some stupid pop star when I was downstairs. So it doesn't really reflect my taste in music as it does my sister's."

I laugh. "I understand that completely." I frown then, a little confused. "Why _aren't _you downstairs right now? It is your party, after all."

Edward looks down, his forehead crinkling. "I'm not much of a big party guy either. This whole thing was really just for the team, and Alice _loves_ throwing parties when our parents are gone." He rolls his eyes. "What about you? Anything in particular you don't like?"

I shrug. "Well," I say, my lip curling. "I can't dance, and by the standards that our peers set as dancing, I don't _want_ to. And I just don't really know anyone here other than Emmett and Garrett, so," I shrug again. "Here I am."

Edward takes a few slow steps toward me, looking up through his lashes. "Well, if it's any consolation, I'm glad you were able to see Radiohead." He comes closer, patting the dog on the head. "Alice and the other girls _hate _him. It's good to know at least someone appreciates him."

I'm staring at him in a little amazement. "You're seriously naming him Radiohead?"

"You don't really like it?" He asks, frowning.

"I _love _it!" I yell. "Any dog of mine would be named after a band, and this one gets one of the coolest names."

Edward's eyes were on mine, his whole persona relaxed now and open. Friendly. "You asked about my musical tastes," he murmurs. "Would you like to see? I have a few records in my room . . . maybe you would like them?"

"You have vinyl?" I squawk, a little too excited. "Anything vintage? I have one really old Beatles record that Garrett and I literally _scoured _Portland for!" I giggle. "I took down a man with a toupee for it."

"You know," Edward says, chuckling with me. "I think Garrett told me that story." He concentrates then chuckles again. "He said you told the guy, 'If you really bought that fake hair then you obviously don't' have the taste to buy this record for it's actual value.'"

I scowl. "In my defense, he asked if the Beatles were named after bugs!" I cross my arms over my chest. "He deserved to have his hair stolen."

Edward was all out howling with laughter now. "You took his hair?" He gasps out, gripping his side.

"It's sitting in my room right now, right next to the record." I shake my head at my own ridiculousness. "It's kind of like a trophy."

"Come one," Edward says, waving me towards him, now his eyes excited, his tone happy. "Now you _have _to see my awesome music collection."

My eyes widen. "Oh, _awesome_ is it?" I stand and let Radiohead down, and then bow. "Lead me wizard!"

He stares at me. "Wizard?"

"Oh, right. You can't read minds, so you wouldn't know this, but Garrett looks like a blonde Dorothy right about now."

He grins. "So what are you? The good witch?"

_He's playing along with my craziness_, I think gleefully. _Two new friends in one day, that's a record!_

"Heck yes!" I agree, following him out of the room and down the hall, Radiohead bounding after us. "Of course I'm the one who says she's helping but only provides information that could have solved all the problems at the beginning. I live to be annoyingly amazing."

Edward snickers, reaching for the doorknob. "From the stories Garrett's told me, you're pretty adventurous."

I nod. "I'm a daredevil Edward. I dabble in magic and appearing in bubbles and spend my spare time jumping off cliffs. Normal teenage stuff."

He opens the door, his mouth open to retort, but the sight in the room stops him cold.

There are many things in life I have seen that have been unexpected, but none had been able to top seeing Lauren Mallory in skimpy red lingerie sitting on the edge of Edward Cullen's bed.

She screeches when she sees me. "What the hell are you doing with her?!" I hear for the second time tonight.

_The Wicked Witch is most certainly not dead._

* * *

So sorry it's been a while . . . I've been SUPER busy and have hardly had any free time.

I really hope you enjoyed!

Review!

PS, super disappointed in tonight's Super Bowl. Really like Seattle, but wish Broncos had put up a fight.

Anyway, love y'all!

- bleary bey


	5. Double the Aftermath

Walking into this party, of all the things I was not expecting to see, the top of that list would be Lauren Mallory trying to seduce Edward Cullen. Well actually if I'm being honest the tops of my 'not going to see list' would be Miley Cyrus performing in the living room but hey, this is a close second.

When a teenage boy sees a girl in lingerie, no matter the situation, you would expect them to stare a bit. Lauren, I had to admit, looked pretty good in her little outfit, her figure womanly yet slim. So I could understand if Edward would stare, at least a little. Even Radiohead is barking his cute little head off behind me. And then he growls. _Well maybe he doesn't like what he sees. _

But no, Edward Cullen, I observe, is not a normal teenage boy. He has his hand thrown over his eyes, as he yells at Lauren to cover herself.

He's a gentleman. _Awww._

Lauren makes no move to cover her goods, which unfortunately are almost spilling out of the red bra she's wearing. "What the hell are you doing here?" She seethes.

My brow crumples. "I can't talk to you until you put some clothes on!"

"I agree!" Edward is now turned toward the door shaking his head. "Please put some clothes on!"

I turn away too, because Lauren is starting to show me a little more of her body than I'd like to see. "Just go wait outside," I murmur to him. "I'll take care of it."

Edward chances a look my way. "Thank you," he whispers, slamming the door as he retreats from the room.

Lauren's hair bounces when she jumps from the bed, huffing loudly. "You ruined this!" She hisses. Her glare is meant to intimidate me I'm sure, but all it does is make her look more ridiculous.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, sarcasm oozing from my voice. "I didn't know I was interrupting the move you were trying to make."

"Ugh!" She stomps to a door, opening it to reveal a bathroom. I see her clothes, the ones she probably arrived in, pooled in the floor. "I've been planning this for _weeks! _Trying to make him jealous by flirting with Garrett in Chem, talking about my workout schedule when he walks by, and now I was just going to surprise him with a little gift, and you just _have _to go and ruin it!"

Throughout her little speech she's slipping into a dress that looks two sizes too small, at least in length. But it's still better than the ensemble underneath.

Ick.

A nudge pushes against my leg and I look down. Radiohead is still in the room, and now rubbing up against me like a cat. I kneel down next to him and pat his head, sighing.

"Yeah," Lauren snorts, sounding smug for no reason. "You _should _hang out with your kind. You know, because you're a bi-"

"Okay!" I shout, knowing exactly where she's going. "I don't need to take this from you, you who waited in some guys bed half naked, so I'm just going to go back downstairs and . . . wash my brain or something."

As I open the door to leave, Radiohead in tow, she screeches "Ugh!"

Edward is standing in the hallway, his head down. His head snaps up as I approach, and I give him a long look.

"I think you two might have some . . . things to . . . discuss." I shudder.

Edward nods at me, his gaze turning reluctantly to his door.

"What did she say?" He wonders.

"Well, she said something about me ruining both of your nights, and then was going to call me something that started with B." I throw him a small smile, hoping to ease his tension. "Don't worry, I'm sure she was just going to call me Bird. Cause, ya' know, Swan."

Edward seems to appreciate my attempt at humor, a sucky attempt at that, as he heaves a sigh and pushes off the wall and strides into his bedroom. Radiohead sits down in the hallway, looking torn between following me or following Edward.

"Follow him," I suggest to the dog, even though he can't understand me. "He needs the support, little dude."

Then, as if he could understand me, he trots after his owner. _Bella,_ _the dog whisperer_.

I slowly walk down the steps, not wanting to return to the party but also wanting to put as much space between myself and the girl Victoria would have wanted to keep a Secret. In the living room the dancing has began to be even sloppier, as it seemed most people had consumed more alcohol and it was loosening their inhibitions. Tyler Crowley is dancing with a throw pillow, singing love songs to it. _Party hard, my friend. Party hard_.

_"Izzy!"_

Jessica Stanley wobbles toward me, her face flushed. She gives me a wide and sloppy smile. "You," she pokes me, swaying on her feet. "You usually don' come to parties!" She's giggling like crazy, her 's's sounding like 'z's.

"That's right Jess," I agree, like she's a child. "I don't."

"But you're here!" Giggle. "At a party!" Hiccup. Giggle. "With _people!"_

I purse my lips. "That is where I am. Jess, how much have you had to drink?"

Jessica's shoulders flew up and dropped down dramatically. "I don' know. Loss coun'!" She attempts to walk again, but she trips over air and burps. "Wise the groun' movin'?"

I carefully put my arm over her shoulders. "Let's get you to a steady surface."

"Yay!" She cheers. "I like steady surfa . . . surfaces!" Suddenly her face contorts into a grimace and she leans into me heavily. "I don' feel too good."

"Do you need a bathroom?"

"NO! I can hold my liquor!"

"Of course you can."

"Where we goin'?" She questions, realizing that I'm dragging her to the bathroom rather than to the couch we had first been heading to.

I huff, supporting the majority of her weight now. "Back to the party. We're going to dance."  
"I love dancin'," she breathes into my face. I gag at the smell.

I get her to sit on the carpet of the small bathroom, her head close the toilet. She starts talking. Something about the new girl, Rosalie. Apparently she showed up to the party with Jasper and was showing herself to be a whore because she was flirting with 'like ten guys and then she was _all_ over Mike!' – her words. Translation – Mike probably tried to put the moves on Rosalie and Jessica got jealous.

Twenty minutes of her babbling later I am thankful that I brought her to the bathroom as she hurls any solid matter from her body into the porcelain. I hold her hair back, suddenly feeling like I am in one of those lame teen movies and I'm the best friend of the main character who turns all rebellious so I help her through her wild years.

Obviously the only real similarity is that I'm helping her. Because, you know, I'm not her best friend.

She continues to puke for another few minutes before she passes out right on the bathroom floor. I stare at her, amazed that this crap happens in real life. I thought it was just what they showed on those shows to make teens look crazier than they were. Then again, I guess we are all a little crazy in our own way.

The door bursts open revealing a tall blonde. Before me is Rosalie Hale . . . looking a little worse for wear. She's breathing heavily, like she had been running.. She stares at me, shocked. I can't tell if she's more shocked at me or the girl currently snoozing on the floor next to me.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, her voice a bit cold, almost like she didn't like me. Which knowing how popular I am is really surprising. Ha.

I smile awkwardly. I'm so not good at social interactions. "It's okay," I assure her. "She's a bit out of it."

Jessica snores as if to emphasize my point.

Rosalie lets out a soft laugh/groan. "I think she's still having a better night than I am," she whispers.

"Yeah, me too I suppose. I'm not really big on parties," I say, shrugging. "I guess I should be thankful Jessica decided to get wasted because it gives me an excuse to not be out there."  
Rosalie looks at me for a moment before her violet eyes widen with recognition. "Wait, you're that girl that fell into Lauren, right?" She stops for a moment, carefully inspecting me. She looks like she's torn between dislike and amusement. "Isabelle."

"Isabella," I correct. "But I like to be called Bella." She nods, shuffling gold sandal-clad feet. I notice her toes are deep red with glitter or something, but not that cheap thick glitter toddlers use, the professional gel stuff. I blurt, "You're toes are so pretty!"

_Way to make it awkward stupid. And to the girl who seems to already hate you a little bit._

Thankfully, she laughs, her eyes softening a bit. "Thanks," she holds out her foot. "I got them done with my aunt the other day. She wanted us to have a girls' day, or whatever."

"Jasper's your . . . god brother, right?"

She nods tightly, her eyes hardening again. "Although for some reason those lovely classmates of ours try to make it seem like . . . well . . ."

"They thought you moved here because of your cocaine dependency?" I finish, smirking.

Rosalie scowls. "Yeah."

I giggle. "Well don't worry. I kept that story from being printed in the paper."

She put her hands on her hips. "I have no idea how that crap started. I mean really!"

"Rosalie, word to the wise, Forks High thrives on gossip. I'm pretty sure Jessica can tell you who everyone has slept with before, even if they don't go to school here. It's like she has a Seattle Sex Index somewhere."

Rosalie snickers, looking down at Jessica. "She drink too much?"  
"Yep. Don't worry though, you came in a little too late for the puking portion of today's activities." My nose wrinkles. Then my brows quirk as a thought comes to me. "Rosalie why are you in here? Do you need to pee or something because I can leave and it's not like Jessica will know any better.

Her face fills with alight pink pigment. "Oh, I don't have to pee or anything. I was kind of hiding."

"From?"

"Alice Cullen and Tanya Denali." She cringes. "They have been trying really hard to be friends . . . like _really _hard. I'm pretty sure it's just because Jasper put them up to it. They don't really like me much." She shrugs, then starts to talk fast, annoyance coloring her tone. "They keep trying to get me to do stuff with them but they don't get that I don't want to. Like tonight they tried to get me to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with some guy, and then got all pissy when I didn't. Lauren Mallory is usually with them, but she said something about hanging out with her boyfriend." She huffs. "I don't even know how someone like her can get a boyfriend. She's a bitch."

I am frozen. Literally. I can't speak or move for a total of twenty-two seconds before I break into a fit of laughter so intense I feel abs coming. "Her . . . Her boyfriend?" I gasp out between breaths. "What a crock of crap!"

"Why?" Rosalie wonders, regarding my giggles with curiosity.

"Because Lauren Mallory was upstairs sitting on Edward Cullen's bed in nothing but her skivvies and they are no where close to dating!" I can't stop giggling as Rosalie just stares at me in shock. Once I'm calmer I retell my tale of Lauren's desperate escapade. By the end, she's laughing along with me.

"What the hell?" She cackles. "Who does that?"

I clutch my side. "I know! I guess she thought she's some sort of vixen!"

Rosalie wipes away a few giggle tears after a while and then gives me a huge smile. "So Bella, what does one such as you usually do on a Friday night?"

"Well, on Fridays I'm usually at the Spartan games. Garrett, my best friend, he plays so I go to every game. My dad and I even drive to the away games," I grin. "It's so much fun."

She cocks her head to the side. "Are you talking about he guy with the braids?"

"That's the one." She rolls her eyes, a smile threatening the corners of her mouth. In the short time I've spent with her, she's gone from not liking me, to swapping stories. I shouldn't question it. But my genius of a big mouth doesn't realize this. "Hey, did you not like me before? You seemed a little . . . cold."

Rosalie looked down, eyes on her gold sandals. "I'm sorry. I usually come off that way. It's just that everyone else I've met so far has either hit on me, asked about my drug problem, or just flat out acted like I was an extraterrestrial. I wasn't sure if you'd fit in one of those categories or not." She gave me a shy smile. "But you don't. Don't take how I act personally. I just . . . take time to like. At least that's what my mother always said. Maybe it's why I have no friends." She ended in a mirthless tone.

"Rosalie you are too pretty to not have friends," I say. "And I don't think you've been hard to like. Lots of people just take time before you know them. Myself included. Then there are those who take ten seconds to know exactly who they are and what they eat for breakfast."

"Like Lauren Mallory?" Rosalie asks with glee in her eyes.

"A total witch who drinks Starbucks every morning and nothing including bran."

"Why nothing including bran?"

I snort. "Why else would she act so constipated?"

We are both giggling when someone pounds on the door. "Time to come out! Emmett is giving his speech! ALL HAIL THE SPARTANS!" Indistinct screaming and cheering followed, along with someone yelling, "Sexy Spartans!"

Rosalie glances at me. "I guess we have to go join the party again, huh?"

I grimace. "I suppose."

We are by the door when I turn to her. "And Rosalie, I just wanted you to know, as far as friends go, not to brag," I shake my head, push my lips out. "I'm a pretty fabulous friend."

Rosalie stiffens. Her mouth opens, once, twice, and I'm worried I just freaked her out. _That's what I get for trying to make another friend. I knew I was pushing it at two._

Then, she grins so brightly it makes her ten times more beautiful. "I think I will just have to find that for myself."

"OMG!" I squeal, lacing my arm through hers, using my extremely girly voice. "Come on, BFF! We have to go see if there are any possible beaus out there for you!"

I drag her out of the bathroom, deciding it would be best to just leave Jess for a while. Rosalie, being some much taller than me, is giggling happily as I weave through people.

"Out the way," I call. I shove my way through the hallway and into the living room, where I can barely see Emmett standing on the coffee table. "Come on, move it! I can't see!"

We end up in the front row, next to a distraught looking Garrett and a very happy looking Angela Weber. She's wearing, guess what, all purple. I stand next to Garrett, my arm still laced with Rosalie's. "Hey Garrett. I see you've been in good hands since you ditched me."

"I see you've been in good hands," he mocks, his tongue sticking out. "Shut up Swan. I don't want to hear it."

"Maybe if you would just tell her there is no chance of you two going out she would give up," I reason. "_Or_ she might just drug you and keep you in her basement as her slave. Whichever works best for her."

"I hate you."

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Emmett's voice booms. He gestures widely, as if welcoming a crowd. "I am so happy to have you all here, at this lovely home, that does not belong to me." A chuckle from the sober ones of us is earned. "So this is our last Friday before our season starts. We have a great team this year from what I've seen in two-a-days, and we have a great shot of making state playoffs. But this year, you know what else we're going to do?" He raises his fist to the air. "We're going to beat those good for nothing Volturi Vultures!"

An eruption of shouts and screams and hoots and hollers fills the air. Mine included. The Volturi Vultures were our school's rival, and quite frankly, they really were vultures.

"We're going to fry their tails, pluck their feathers, and bring home the rest for victory dinner!" More cheers, I scream, Garrett gives a battle cry. "We are going to slay those vultures, and bring the carcass back as a trophy!"

Had people not been as drunk as they were, I'm pretty sure that would have gotten a silent crowd. However at the level of inebriation that my classmates were experiencing I suppose they wouldn't know any better. Garrett laughs while I grimace. Dead bird body. Gross.

Emmett holds a hand out to the screaming crowd, calming them. "This is my senior year. For me, and my fellow seniors, let's make this the greatest season yet. We have our star running back Garrett," he gestures to the blonde idiot in braids next to me.

Angela screeches excitedly. "Whooooo!" She claps wildly. "Let's go Garrett!"

Rosalie tugs on my arm, her eyes wide as she nods to Angela. I just smile, too happy with life. "Garrett!" I yell, high fiving Angela. "You handsome devil, you!" He turns to me with a wild look in his eyes.

He's fixing to kill me.

Emmett is guffawing up on the coffee table, watching us with dancing eyes. He proceeds to name off a few other seniors on the team, then, with a huge grin, "And of course our amazing quarterback, yours truly!" He points to himself and I whoop. He winks at me, then at Rosalie, who snorts. "And last, but certainly not least, our fearless captain and best receiver, Edward!"

The crowd goes nuts, especially the ladies. We all look around for man of the hour, but he's nowhere to be found.

Emmett huffs. "Well I guess the party hasn't stopped for ole' Eddie Boy!" Everyone laughs drunkenly, and soon everyone returns to dancing or drinking. Or dancing and drinking, seeing as that's exactly what James Hunter is doing.

Emmett steps down from his gallant pedestal and joins our little group, me and Garrett clapping him in. "Great speech, great speech," I say.

"Here, here," Garrett adds.

We look at Rosalie, who seems shocked to be included. "Um, cheers?"  
Garrett and I clap again. "Cheers!" we yell in unison.

Then Garrett shifts to Rosalie, holding his hand out. "I'm Garrett, Bella's best friend slash crime fighting hero."  
I nod. "You may know him by his public name. Gold Boy. He draws strength from his braids."

"The tighter they are," Garrett continues. "The more strength I have."

Emmett opens his mouth, ready to shoot off about something, when we hear a crash. A loud one. The whole party seems to just stop, everyone turning to the source of the sound.

A boy is staring with wide eyes at a pile of pottery that is littered on the floor. I walk over; ready to help pick it up. As I approach I realize what it is. It's a vase, a very expensive tribal vase. This is bad.

"What happened?" Edward is coming toward the shatters. His hair is an absolute mess and his face is flushed. Behind him I see Lauren Mallory, smirking. _Ewwww._

And there went all my respect for Edward.

"What the hell?" He starts picking up the pieces of the vase, his face full of rage and fear. "Do you know how expensive this thing is? Do you?" He roars, towering over the kid who broke it. "Oh my gosh," he groaned. "My mom is going to kill me!"

Everyone is silent as he fumes. He kicks the floor, tugs at his hair, and just generally freaks out. While he mumbles to himself Emmett returns to the coffee table, watching his best friend warily. "Okay!" he says slowly. "I guess that means the party is over!" People mumble, looking at each other. "That means: GET OUT!"

They were like cats that had just been caught eating on the table. They froze, then scattered. It seemed like no time till everyone had exited the Cullen house. Wujjjum8jumhile they were filing out, Angela stopped by me. "So, can you like, just slip this to Garrett?"

She passes me a piece of paper with her number on it. I grin.

"Of course."

Once everyone is gone, the few that remain are Garrett, myself, Emmett, and Rosalie. And Jessica, if she's still passed out in the bathroom. I glance at Edward, a blonde now bent beside him, whispering. _And apparently Lauren._

"Baby," I hear her say quietly. Rosalie tugs on my arm, wide eyed. This is girl language for, _What the heck? _I shrug. "Come on, it'll be okay." Lauren lifts a hand to rub his back.

It appears that Edward doesn't even hear her, because he continues to pick up the pieces murmuring to himself.

"EDWARD!" A voice so high and loud that it makes me flinch pierces the air. Alice Cullen stalks in, her tiny face skewed up in fury. "Why the hell did you send everyone home? The party was going great!"

Edward turned to her. "Are you kidding me? Do you see the wreck that this house is in? They broke the vase Mom got from that Indian tribe they visited on their honeymoon. Their _honeymoon_. You know she freaking loved that thing." He turned back to the pile of pottery, his face forlorn as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm so screwed."

I take a quick look around the living room. It is a wreck. _I guess this time when the tornado swept up Dorothy's house it didn't squash the wicked witch_. With a short moment of contemplation I walk to the kitchen, which is also a horrifying disaster zone, searching for cleaning supplies. I found them quickly, considering like all other normal people the Cullens put their things under the sink. Grabbing a box of trash bags, a bottle of cleaner, and a roll of paper towels. I walk passed the little group, heading for the stairs. I figure I better do something, considering I suck at partying I can put my skills to use. Cleaning.

If I thought the first floor was destroyed, then I was not prepared for the second floor. It looked like an earthquake mixed with a tornado mixed with Garrett when he can't find his pants. Sadly that's almost every time I have to take him to school.

Soon I'm picking up empties, cups, random trash, and anything broken I can find. I hear rustling downstairs, guessing that they got their butts in gear and were now picking up down there too.

"Bella?"

Rosalie stands at the top of the stairs. "You want some help?"

I sigh, scanning the chaos. "Yeah, that'd be good."

We work in comfortable silence. Rosalie is hilarious picking up the crap we find. Her face anytime we find anything even remotely gross is enough to send me into a fit of giggles. Soon she giggles too. After doing what we could in the hall we move into one of the rooms.

I take one step in, then gape.

"Holy shit," Rosalie breathes.

"I agree," I whimper. On the floor, littered haphazardly, are about _ten condoms_. "Oh my gosh!" I scream. "Who does this? Oh God this is disgusting!" I carefully tiptoe around the disgusting latex contraptions.

"How are we supposed to pick these up?" Rosalie wonders.

I examine the room, my eyes landing on a drawer. Figuring there might be _something_ in there, I open it, cautiously because if there are condoms out here, who knows what will be in here. And then I find pencils. And tape.

I grin. "I have an idea."

* * *

Two hours later, Rosalie flings the 'Dick Stick' towards the open bag, and we both cheer when it flings in. "I win!" She screams, throwing her hands in the air. "I win, you lose, what now, suck it!"

"Obviously whoever was in here didn't _suck it_," I counter.

She snickers, but both of us are tired. After I found the pencils we got to work on thoroughly cleaning everything we could. The hallway is back to normal; the bathroom in the hall is spotless, and now Rosalie and I were kind of friends. We kept making bets on who did who in this room, or who's thing was so small they needed the little bitty condoms we saw stuck to the walls.

It made the disgusting a little more bearable.

I throw the stick of pencils and tape down, fake-frowning. "It's official. Rosalie Hale is the champion of Dick Stick."

"Dick Stick?"

Rosalie, Dick Stick still in hand, turns so rapidly, she nails me in the stomach with the pencils.

Edward stands in the doorway, his face alight with exhaustion, irritation, and what looked like . . . gratitude.

"Hey Edward," I say, rubbing my stomach. "We've got this floor all cleaned up."

Rosalie nods, her eyes glazing over with the hard looks he gets around most people.

Edward looks around. "I saw the hallway. Thank you both so much. Seriously." He sighs, smiling at both of us. "We got downstairs under control . . . found Jessica Stanley passed out in the bathroom."

"_Really_?" I smash my lips into a line. Rosalie throws a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing.

Edward regards us with amusement now. "You already knew that, huh?"

"Maybe," I allow. "Although, I'm more curious about Lauren, _Baby_." I wiggle my brows.

He lets out a grunt, running a hand over his face. "I got rid of her an hour ago. She attacked me the second I walked into my room. I mean really just . . ." He feigns a feline attack. I mean he meowed and everything.

"Ew." I shake my head. "Yuck."

He smirks. "Yeah I know. And . . ." He struggles for a minute. "I really, really appreciate you guys cleaning up. It . . . it means a lot. Alice didn't even help."

I smile. "What are friends for?"

Rosalie huffs, crossing her arms. "Yeah. Sure."

Edward kicks his feet awkwardly. "Garrett said he needed to get you home . . ." he murmurs.

I nod. "Okay. You need a ride Rosalie?"

She thinks for a minute before shrugging. "Sure, why not?"

We pass Edward on the stairs, but as Rosalie keeps going Edward grasps my wrist. I turn, curious. "Um," he flounders. "I just wanted to say thank you. Again." He looks like a sad little boy, and it reminds me of my dad when he forgot to take me to the park when I was nine or Garrett when he did bad during a game. It makes me sad, and so I automatically do what I would to them.

I yanked him into my arms. Like I literally yanked him. He stiffened immediately while I hugged him. Then, after a moment, he wrapped his arms hesitantly around me. "Stop freaking out," I tell him. "And calm down. I'm sorry if this is awkward, but you needed a hug."

He rested his head on top of mine. "It's okay. I think I needed it." We release each other and he smiles, looking at me with ease.

"You have now felt the power of a Bella hug!" Garrett yells from behind us. Then he runs forward and wraps and arm around each of our necks. "They are freakin' magical. Cured me when my dad screamed at me for four straight hours because I wrecked our car."

Edward glances at me with a slight blush.

"I wanna hug!"

Emmett wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me overhead. "Come on Baby Bell! Your chariot awaits!"

He's running me out the door, me bouncing up and down. "Bye Edward! See you Monday!"

He waves, Garrett still with a an arm around his neck, now giving Edward a noogie.

_Children. _

Emmett puts me in the car and tells me again how great the braids are. HE pats my head, winks at Rosalie who is in the back seat.

He dimples. "Be good little sis!"

I raise my eyebrows. "I've been upgraded to sister?"

"Hells yeah! You helped my best friend out, you made a bet with a guy and braided his hair, and you managed to make Edward less freaked out. You're like the little sister I've never had."

Emotion overwhelms me. I give him a slightly watery smile. "See you Monday, Bro," I murmur.

Emmett seems so pleased that I called him my brother he gives me another hug before running off, screaming, "GARRETT! BELLA LIKES ME MORE!"  
Rosalie is leaning back in her seat. "He's . . . a handful."

I shrug. "I can't really be picky about my friends, and he makes a really great one."

She casts her eyes. "I'm sorry," she mutters. "I didn't mean to sound rude."

I stare at her. "Did you think that was rude? You should spend five minutes with me and Garrett. We call each other stupid every other sentence."

Garrett gets into the vehicle as I say that. "So Swan, you are now friends with my only guy friends, and quite frankly, I don't think you should be hijacking them that way."

"Oops!" I chirp sarcastically. "Now, snow cones!"

"Snow cones?" Rosalie asks.

"You got anywhere to be?" Garrett wonders.

Rosalie's eyes flick between the two of us. "Um, no."

"Then snow cones!" I clap. "Oh Garrett! I know a flavor you can get!"

"What?"

"Dickle icicle!"

While Rosalie giggles away in the back seat Garrett just shakes his head. "I hate you sometimes."

* * *

A/N:

Chapter es ober.

I really hope you liked it! It took me forever to write because I've been so busy _and _every time I wrote someone would literally not stop bugging me.

You should review because it's like getting a hug from Edward.

Just kidding they're not that great.

LOVE YOU GUYS! REVIEW SO I KNOW WHATCHA THINK!

- bleary bey


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